Harry The Reaper
by Light Lord Cybergate
Summary: What happens when Harry dies but comes back as one of deaths personal messengers: A Grim Reaper. Gifted with the powers of death and immortality and working with the devious Gravelings who's sole purpose is to bring 'death' to mortals at their destined ends, Harry now has to collect souls as a living. What will Hogwarts be like with this new and deathly improved 'undead' Harry.
1. The-Boy-Who-Was-Reaped

_**A/N: OK...before I begin...**_

_**I was going through my files on an older computer and was surprised when I suddenly found this old story which I had started years ago... but I had never finished and I had thought I had lost for good.**_

_**I never expected to find it again and I only have about 6-7 chapters of it written. Never the less...while I don't expect to write any chapters of this story for a long time (since I'm concentrating on Paradox)...I thought it would be a shame not to at least post what I have... **_

_**Having said that...**__**If you like it I may be influenced to continue this old gem.**_

_**SO...without further due...here is the second ever story I ever wrote. (Lord of Light and Darkness was my first)**_

_**I started writing this around...or even before I started to write Digital (which I hope to also continue some day)**_

_**Anyway...please enjoy...and if possible review.**_

_**(I'll be adding a new chapter (6-7 in total I think) every few days or so. (Give you something to read while you wait for the next chapter of Paradox)**_

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_Presenting..._

**_Harry the Reaper_**

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**One time disclaimer **(For the whole story)**: I do not own the Harry Potter universe. JK Rowling does**

'**Most' of the stories ideas and references towards 'Grim Reapers' and 'Gravelings' belong to the 'Dead like me' television series and to whoever owns them... the rest are mine. **

**Story Type: **partial Harry Potter/Dead-Like-Me Crossover

**Story Category: **Alternate Universe, Crossover

**Story Information: **A Harry as an undead Grim Reaper story.

What happens when Harry dies but comes back as one of deaths personal messengers: A Grim Reaper.

Gifted with the powers of death and immortality and working with the devious Gravelings who's sole purpose is to bring 'death' to mortals at their destined ends, Harry now has to collect souls as a living. What will Hogwarts be like with this new and deathly improved 'undead' Harry.

**Rated:** T to Mature

**Pairings:** H/Hr

**Time Lines: **Hogwarts Era

**Warnings: **Violence, Coarse language, Suicide, **Severe** character death. (basically everything to do with death) Story may or may not follow canon.

"_**Through death there is relief, through relief comes happiness, with happiness you gain a true understanding in the way of things, it is the reapers way."**_

_- Dread Lord Sebelia de Mort, Master Reaper, 'Thumb' of Deaths Hand, Deaths Main Advisor and personal bitch -_

**Chapter Beta'd by:**

RPMcMurphy from 'Perfect Imagination and Herman Tumbleweed

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**Chapter 1**

**The-boy-who-was-reaped**

* * *

It was a normal summer's evening near the end of July.

Somewhere in England near a small park, in a little known place called Little Whinging, Surrey, two people, one a little boy of nearly eleven years, the other, a little girl, a year younger, nearly ten, are about to meet. One of them, the little boy, is running away from a few thugs, trying to save what he is sure is his life, away from the local gang of hooligans, led by his cousin.

The other, the little girl, is a Grim Reaper and is trying to catch up with him…for one reason and one reason alone: To claim his soul before his destined time is up.

The little boy doesn't know it yet, but like many others before him, he is already dead.

It's only a matter of time, before death, the little girl in fact, catches up with him.

Why is that? How can I be so sure about this you ask yourself? Well, no real reason….except one: Early that morning Death itself got up to make its next move in the everlasting game of life and death and decided there and then, that it was his time to die. Simple as that, no questions asked. I tag you…you're it…you're out… dead…gone.

It is the way of things. Nobody ever said life was supposed to be fair, but at least this young boy was soon to find out (sooner than most, but later than others) that life was anything but fair. At the same moment Death made that fateful decision, the young girl set out to find him and to end it all. To end his suffering, to end his life.

Breathing heavily, completely exhausted and at his wit's end, the boy seizes a moment to stop and catch his breath. Slowly, tenderly favoring his battered body, he leans heavily against a near by tree. His eyes wide open, his veins pumping ever dwindling oxygen to his brain at an ever decreasing rate, he takes a moment to frantically scan the immediate park area for any sign of an immediate treat.

Thinking that he has finally lost his 'unwanted escort', those 'part time park ruffians and full time school yard bullies,' led by his dear cousin Dudley, he takes a look at his newest wounds and groans pitifully. It doesn't take him long to realize that he is extremely bruised and bleeding from many cuts all over his tender, malnourished young body.

His blood-soaked clothes, cracked rib, and broken arm, are only partly a testimony to that. For, even now he is feeling himself growing weaker as his predetermined time draws near.

Shaking his head, he sighs. Slowly, stumbling, shifting his weight from foot to foot to minimize his sudden weakness, he slowly starts to walk back home. If he could honestly call it that. Nobody should have to fear their home.

He is moving with extreme reluctance, knowing full well what to expect once he walks through the door. More trouble…more sorrow…more pain. He really doesn't want to go there, but what else could he do? he asks himself again for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

All attempts to phone or ask for help had long since fallen on deaf ears and failed. All former attempts or reports made by his teachers or indeed from any and all child services or even visits from the police to help him had all mysteriously disappeared, stopped or found themselves misplaced time and time again. But he knew, if he didn't go home, 'things' would only get worse.

Nobody loved him, he knew that by now. It was a fact of his life. You see, Harry, for that is the little boy's name, is not what you and I would call a 'normal person', much to his displeasure I might add, because his greatest wish would have been to be just that: Normal. However, it was not to be. Not for him. Not anymore. Not ever.

Harry, for all of his wishes, is anything but normal. He is what you and I would call a Wizard. A living, breathing, magic using entity.

Unfortunately, for Harry that is, it was because of that very reason why his relatives hated him so much. In fact, they hated everything about him. Anything to do with that dreaded 'M' word…

…Magic.

They hated anything which could in anyway be classified as 'not normal'. They hated him so much that in their opinion he was dirt, less even… and it showed.

Harry's bedroom was an old cupboard under the stairs, just barely enough for him to squeeze into. All he ever owned were the few clothes which he always wore on his back, and even those were nothing but third degree, hand-me-down rags, passed down to him from his cousin, and always several sizes too large.

Toys?

He had none.

Birthday presents?

What was that?

Food? When he could get it, it was usually just a few meager scraps from the dinner table, hardly enough to feed Dudley's three legged, one-eyed pet hamster, and no where enough to feed a growing young boy such as himself.

I wast not like the Dursleys didn't have it.

They had lot of it. Dudley himself got three or four helping for dinner alone, let's not even speak about breakfast and supper; of which Harry had none.

Breakfast ? Supper? No way! Not good enough for a little freak like him, his uncle would say.

Even dinner was not always set in stone. For that he would have to work; do long hours of chores, while his spoiled cousin did nothing but sat in front of the television all day. That was when he wasn't out bullying children in the near by park with his friends. Even then Harry would only eat whenever he was lucky enough to have finished all of his daily chores. Most days he got no food at all.

In short, he was their slave. No less, and definitely no more. Little did Harry know this was all about to change…. all it would take was his death.

Slowly his house, No!...their house…never his, came into view.

All so slowly, all so painfully aware of what was about to happen to him, the moment he stepped inside, Harry stumbled up the street and was just about to re-enter 'Dursktraz,' his own personal prison, his relative's property, when…:

"Hey look… there he is! Get him!" yelled the voice of his dear cousin, Dudley, from the other side of the lane.

Almost immediately, just long enough for the rest to identify their target, six other boys, all larger and stronger looking than Harry charged towards him.

In full panic Harry tried to run the last few steps to the Dursley's driveway and then to his slightly less painful 'freedom' at the hands of his merciless uncle only to stumble and fall. Had Harry been in full health he might have succeeded. However, he was not.

Already severely weakened by his earlier dealings with the same boys he only just manages to stumble past the Dursley's gate before he is grabbed roughly from behind by one of the thugs and pulled back, away from the 'freedom' of his relative's house, right into the depths and darkness of a few nearby bushes.

Since it was already late, none of the neighbors saw anything. Even if one of them had taken just a moment to look out of their windows, all they would have seen would have been the retreating shadows of a few boys, but nothing more.

Harry never even had a chance to shout before his face and therefore his mouth was covered by a cloth held by one of the boys. No help would come that night for the weary and definitely no help for a poor unwanted, unloved and heavily in pain orphan named Harry Potter.

Nobody noticed a young girl watch all of this with sad young eyes from the other side of the road. It was not her job to interfere. Her part had yet to come.

"It's always the young who die the most tragic deaths," she said to herself, sighing before she followed, silently.

Death had come to Little Whinging. It wouldn't be too long now.

Harry never knew how many punches he felt that night. He never knew how many times his cousin and his gang had kicked him. He definitely didn't want to even think about where. It didn't take long for him to pass out from the pain and fall into Morpheus's blissful arms of unconsciousness sleep.

He had already passed out, long before the gang had started to 'finish him off', with sticks and stones only to leave his battered, bloody, bruised, barely alive body behind, turned upside down, headfirst, in the nearest trashcan.

Miraculously, even then, he didn't die. His magic wouldn't allow it. Throughout the whole ordeal his magic did its best to heal him. Always just enough to barely keep him alive. Just enough for help to come. But this night it never came.

Then even it was slowly failing, slowly but surely even it was giving up hope. It wouldn't be long now… but not yet. One thing still had to be done.

The next thing Harry knew was an overwhelming pain all over his body as he tried to crawl out of the waste after his trashcan fell over. Moaning pitifully, he next tried his best to stand up but couldn't.

The next he heard the voice of a young girl as she stood before him. Looking up wearily, afraid that she might be a member of Dudley's gang who had come to finish him off, he sees her holding out her hand to him.

"Hey there…let me help you," the girl said kindly, a sad look on her face. It looked like as if she had been crying only mere moments before.

Only too happy to comply, feebly thinking that a crying girl wouldn't do him anymore harm, not caring who she was or indeed who he was talking to, and too weak to get up himself anyway, Harry gratefully accepted her hand. _What's the worst that could happen, _he thought.

Slowly the two made their way towards the Dursley's front door. Harry never bothered to ask or even wonder how or why she knew where he lived. He simply was in too much pain to ask, or even care.

"This is where I leave you," the girl said kindly. "It won't be too long now, I'll see you soon," she said just before she took a moment to run her hand down his shoulder in a particular pattern, a sort of grabbing motion as if grabbing something away from him.

Little did Harry know that it was his soul.

The next moment she turned around, then before Harry could even thank her, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Too weary and consumed with pain to fully comprehend what had really happened to him, Harry tried to quietly open the door, hoping to sneak inside without his uncle or aunt knowing, but found that it was locked. Sighing heavily, steeling himself for the next part of the show of what he felt was surely going to be the last page in the sad story of his life, he reached up and rang the door bell, then he collapsed on the steps of the Dursleys' front door.

Moments later the door opened to reveal the sneer of his uncle's huge, overweight fat and ugly face. But Harry never fully noticed his uncle open the door and scream at him to get his lazy, good for nothing, butt inside. He hardly felt the man grab him and haul him into the house. He didn't hear his uncle swear about the blood…his blood which _he_ was getting all over their expensive carpet.

He slightly felt the sharp pain of his uncles leather belt across his now bare back side, and heard the man screaming at him for 'getting into fights' but by that time he was already too far gone to really care.

His last few moments of this particular part of his life were fleeting images of himself being thrown head first into the small cupboard under the stairs which he called his 'room'. The last few thoughts of his life which swept through his mind were that is was finally over.

He welcomed Death.

Then he died.

Outside the Dursleys' property the young girl smiled.

Her job now done, relieved that the boy's misery was finally over, she turned to walk away. She knew there would be no spiritual entity for her to take care of tonight.

Not this night…not for her…not anymore. Tonight a new Reaper would be born and she would at long last get her long deserved promotion.

Everything which has a beginning must have an end. It is the natural order of things.

A few seconds later there was a flash of bright white light and then she was gone.

* * *

Somewhere in Scotland in a castle known by some as Hogwarts, School of Witch Craft and Wizardry, to others as an old ruin in the Scottish highlands, an old man named Dumbledore is sleeping, dreaming a wonderful dream of himself as an all powerful Emperor and God of the world. Suddenly he is roused from his deep sleep as numerous objects of different types and sizes in his office start to scream and whistle, signifying that something was wrong, once again, with his number one 'unwanted, but necessary evil' charge, named Harry Potter.

Knowing full well who they were tied to, the old man grumbles then contemplates whether he could safely ignore them and go back to sleep. After all it wasn't the first time he had heard their sounds. It had been quite often, in fact, nearly everyday. Then again never this loud.

Deciding that he couldn't safely ignore them, the old man curses the boy's name for what felt like a millionth time then somehow, slowly, he wills himself out of bed.

Then it happened. Dumbledore had just managed to force one leg out of his bed, when another, louder alarm went off. It was a high pitched sound …and the only sound having to do with his unwanted charge which Dumbledore actually feared. The shrill sound of death.

Swearing loudly, using words long forbidden by human kind, Dumbledore practically threw the rest of his body out of his bed and ran to his office. Reaching the offending item in record time, he swears again then runs to collect his wand from his bed side table.

Having successfully retrieved said wand he quickly conjures and dons some robes. Then he races back into his office towards the fire. A quick handful of Floo later and he was gone.

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**AN: **And cut... next chapter two days...


	2. Welcome to Death

_**Well...I read through the chapter and added a little bit more here and there to make it a bit longer (the chapter was about 3000 words. **_

_**As it is...It's still no where near to my usual standard...but at least now its now sort of acceptable. (It's still way too short)**_

_**Unfortunately...since I have now added extra's to the chapter...that also now means that it's no longer beta'd. But I guess that's a small price to pay for more to read...**_

_**Anyway...enjoy it as best as you can.**_

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_**Previously on Harry the Reaper:**_

Swearing loudly, using words long forbidden by human kind, Dumbledore practically threw the rest of his body out of bed and ran to his office. Reaching the offending item in record time, he swears again then runs to collect his wand from his bed side table.

Having successfully retrieved said wand he quickly conjures and dons some robes. Then he races back into his office towards the fire. A quick handful of Floo later and he was gone.

…_**and now the continuation:**_

* * *

_**Harry the Reaper**_

_**Chapter 2**_

Welcome to Death

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_**#Limbo Land, Somewhere between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. **_

First there was nothingness, just the sheer black and darkness of death. Harry felt like as if he was floating, completely weightless, but still aware of his surroundings. Not fully, but still aware. Then slowly, ever so slowly, after what felt like a small eternity, there was a small speck of light. This light was fuzzy at first, sort of like what one would see when not wearing your glasses, yet still somewhat different. Harry could tell...somehow that it just wasn't quite the same.

Soon the light grew and grew, slowly at first, as if in slow motion, then faster, until it surrounded him from all sides.

Reaching for his glasses, or rather trying to reach for his glasses, from where he thought they should be, -a small crack-like hole in the wall of his cupboard where he usually left them every night - , Harry soon found out that he couldn't reach them at all: His body didn't seem to obey him anymore. It was at that moment that he suddenly realised that he wasn't breathing anymore...or indeed that he no longer needed to breath at all.

'What the hell?...this isn't right,' he thought, surprised...and also quite worried.

Confused, and afraid, Harry wondered what was wrong with him. How was it possible that he didn't need to breath? Why wasn't he able to move... What happened to him? The last thing Harry could remember before he was swallowed by blackness was a fuzzy almost surreal amount of pain. It was more pain than what he was normally used to...and that was saying something as he was no stranger to pain. Not by a long shot.

He could still clearly remember the fleeting image of his cupboard door closing behind him, locking him in just like any other day. He remembered his most recent endeavor with his dear uncle and friends. Well, Dudley's friends, not his uncle's. Not that he really cared whose friends they were and not that it made a different. Well, not to him at least. They weren't his and that was all that mattered. After all, he never had any friends. Who would possibly want to be friends with the most mistreated and bullied child of the neighborhood. No sane child anyway. Not if they didn't want to be put on the 'to be bullied'' and the 'to be beat up' list themselves. Children..., those brave...or sadly stupid enough to help him, would nearly always find themselves on the receiving end of Dudleys fists the next day. So it was therefore no real surprise when everybody wanted nothing to do with him.

The teachers never helped...or indeed never saw anything and even when they did, they still didn't help... So much for the so called authority figures.

Harry definitely didn't blame the other children for staying away from him. He probably would have done the same if he wee in their shoes.

Harry vividly remembered the last 'torturing session' his cousin had forced him through and for a moment he wondered whether he couldn't move because his bones were all broken. But if that were the case wouldn't he be feeling pain? Then he realized with a small pang that he couldn't, in fact, feel any of his limbs at all. He was only able to somehow move his head to look around. That was all.

Horrified, suddenly thinking that he might be paralyzed; a death sentence in the Dursley house, Harry began to panic. What would he do now? Worse... what would his so called family do to him? He wouldn't be able to cook for them anymore. He wouldn't be able to clean for them either. Hell, come to think of it, he wouldn't be able to do anything at all for them anymore. They sure wouldn't look after him, that was for sure. After all the times they told him he was useless…now they might actually be right.

That thought more than anything else depressed Harry the most. He didn't want to be useless. He wanted to prove himself. He would rather be dead than to be useless...

Something told Harry that 'they' wouldn't simply keep him if he could do nothing to repay them for their meager hospitality. He'd have to earn it. But how? How could he possibly do that, if he was not able to move.

Well, Harry thought, maybe they would at least give him a quick death. He was allowed to hope for that much…right? His relatives didn't allow him much. Hardly anything, to be exact… but… perhaps they would at least allow him the mercy of a quick death…right? . Perhaps if he begged them? he thought. They always said they wanted him to die. Maybe this would be their chance. If he really wasn't able to move anymore he'd even thank them if they did...well... that.

Just when he was about to really panic, as in a heart attack sort of panic attack, not the weak kind either -not that it would have done much of a difference since he was already dead - his vision suddenly improved. This surprised Harry since he still didn't have any glasses on, or at least he thought he didn't. He had never been able to really see without them. Not after the incident with the frying pan…when his aunt has hit him over the head with it, when he had accidentally burnt the toast. He was about four when it happened. He wasn't sure. It could have been three.

Suddenly he heard someone speak.

"There…the integration process should be complete…in just… about…right...

Now!"

"Welcome!... You're Harry James Potter, son of James Andrew Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans, correct?"

Almost immediately after those words were said Harry suddenly found, to his great relief, that he could move again.

Taking his first real look around, Harry saw numerous pure white walls. Even the floor and ceiling were white. He seemed to be in what looked like a simple waiting room, just like one of those rooms the Dursleys' begrudgingly took him to once while visiting the local doctor, only much whiter….much, much whiter and... That couldn't be true...where the walls glowing? he asked himself.

'Walls didn't usually glow…did they? ' he wondered. Come to think of it...walls didn't look fluffy either. Sort of like clouds...but more solid.

'Weird.'

"Afraid, Mr. Potter? Don't be… there is absolutely nothing to be afraid about…not anymore, you're dead after all… Nope...nothing to be afraid about at all any more, the voice from before said again, which prompted harry to look towards the origin of the voice; a man nearby.

"Er…please, follow me," said the man. At least Harry hoped he was a man. Problem was, he didn't really look like one at all anymore, but rather, more like a… well...it was hard to describe… Harry was sure he once was a man, at some stage, he was sure of that...somewhat. But due to the fact that he was missing about half of his head, all of his hair, that he was sprouting three arms instead of two… and that he had a red skin colour instead of the normal kind…well… needless to say, he wasn't really sure what that man was anymore. The fact that he seemed to be incredibly hype...or was that extremely giddy - probably both - didn't help much either to improve his opinion of the... man?

'Er…is that a red…tail?,' Harry asked himself, deeply fascinated and also a bit horrified, as he watched the extra body part wagging behind the man as he walked.

"Er…what happened to you?" asked Harry, mesmerized as he started to follow the 'man'; His mouth was hanging wide open in wonder. He had never seen anything like it before.

'I must be dreaming,' he thought. 'Yes..that's it…I'm only dreaming and I'll wake up in my cupboard soon enough,' he reassured himself.

It was the first thing that entered his stupefied mind and since it was the first time he saw anybody quite like this guy, it was hardly surprising either. Meanwhile the person had continued to talk, totally ignoring Harry's first question, seemingly not noticing the strange look Harry was giving him either. Or maybe he simply didn't care.

"…I mean, it's not like you can die again, you know… And since you don't feel pain here, you know…well… let me…Oh sorry…where are my manners? Let me first introduce myself; I am the welcoming committee, you know… _your very_ own personal welcoming committee into this oh all so fine …establishment, yes, that's the word. Oh, isn't that simply great?" the man asked giddily nearly hoping around the room in his giddiness.

Harry didn't know what to think. As it was he felt like groaning. If this was a dream…then it simply had to be a nightmare. It was either that or he really was dead and this was hell. Oh no…he really was dead... wasn't he. He really was dead and this was hell. He was in hell, he thought, miserably.

He was finding it quite hard to keep calm himself at that moment. After all, just a few moments ago from his perspective he had still been alive. To have this…'man'... tell him he had… died? To have this man tell him that he was actually dead (not that he hadn't expected dying while still on earth) was a shock. A big...no...not a big...it was larger, much larger...a great big shock. Though not really unexpected either the more he thought about it. The fact that the man irked him with his giddiness and his constant 'you knows' didn't help much either.

_So, the old man has finally succeeded after all,_ Harry thought, thinking about his beefy uncle. _Well about time really. Good for him... and I guess also good for me too if I think about it. At least my suffering is now over…and I won't have to listen to Mrs Horse Faced Tuny, I am as large as a Whale Verny, or I am as dumb as a door nail, Diddy Dumbkins anymore. _Harry thought to himself, a small smile appearing on his face for the first time as he realized that point. If this was Hell, he'd gladly take Hell any day over a day with the Dursleys.

Little did he know at that point just how right...yet also just how very wrong he was.

"Welcome to 'Limbo Land' as I like to call it, you know…the small area in limbo before Purgatory, and the second to last stop to Valhalla...you know...paradise…the big beautiful yet invisible place in the sky...or simply Heaven as you new age people like to call it…"

"On the other hand you could also go to Hell... if you have been well…you know...bad, as the case may be, in that case you have my greatest sympathies...though you probably don't deserve them," said the man, completely undisturbed by Harry's lack of concentration as he led Harry into, under, over, around and through corridors of all shapes and sizes.

"Here is where you will hopefully find out what you're doing here, you know…why you have come here and why you have not gone straight to heaven...or hell… That is, if you don't know it already…," said the man.

"Hopefully?" questioned Harry, ignoring the most recent 'you know' and trying his best to make sense of what the overly hyper fellow was saying.

"Well, people have been known to be here for quite a while, you know. You see that fellow over there," said the guide, pointing towards a floating half sleeping, half praying monk on a bench nearby.

Harry looked then nodded.

"That poor fellow has been here for nearly one thousand and sixty five years, you know, ever since he was ejected from heaven...but barred from hell... but then again, once you're dead, who really cares, you know… you have all the time in the heavens...or the Hells," the guide said laughing slightly. It was a disturbing laugh and it did not make Harry feel any better about his current situation.

Hearing this Harry eyes went wide and he gulped. He had no intention of waiting that long. Surely they wouldn't make him wait that long…would they? He seriously hoped not. What had that man done that he would have to wait that long? What had he done to get kicked out of Heaven and get barred from Hell for that matter?

"What did he do?" he asked?

"Him...oh..nothing really...just tried to start his own religion...that's all, no real biggie," said the man with a chuckle.

"Holy...sh...I'm definitely never going to try that, Harry swore to himself, taking a hurried step away from the monk.

"Ah here we are, Grand Waiting Hall number seven thousand, seven hundred, seventy seven...and... five eights of course...never forget the five eights, a really nice big hall with plenty of room, one of the best and one of my favorites, if I may say so myself, you know… I'm sure you will be quite happy here. My own hall… well… room, when I first came here...you know, was much smaller than this, only had about fifty or so occupants at the time, you know, then again I always liked this room, so I may be somewhat, you know, biased," said the guide sighing slightly at the sight.

"Riiiiight!" said Harry sarcastically, secretly wishing he could stuff his guide's mouth. He was sure if he said 'you know' one more time he'd go crazy. The room was overfilled with people and there hardly was enough room to stand.

"So…what now?" asked Harry.

"What?...oh, you take a number and sit down silly, why, what did you think?" the guide asked.

"Oh…ok…" said Harry just before he took another look around the room and realized just what his guide had said. "YOU WHAT!" he practically screamed, completely horrified: there must have been what looked like over several million beings in this hall alone, it was that huge.

"You kno.."

"Yeah, yeah… I know, I KNOW…I heard you the first time," Harry spat out loudly, walking away from his guide to the ticket dispenser. He was now in a very bad mood.

"Gee...no need to be angry about that...I'm only..."

"SHUT UP!"

But!

"Zip it!"

"But..."

"Ah ha."

"But"

"Ahem"

"How rude!"

"Zip"

"Fine!...I know when I'm not wanted," " the man said as he walked away in a huff.

Sighing in relief Harry turned to the ticket dispenser, then slowly, hesitantly, he pulled a ticket.

Number:1347985492059209520959205092 82 and five sixth.

Seeing this number in horror, Harry froze and stared disbelievingly at it. Slowly, greatly fearing what he might just be about to see, he looked up at a near by notice board.

Now calling number: 134149025720705 and one thousandth.

Seeing this, Harry's eyes grew even wider then before and he cursed loudly, really loudly, earning himself many head-shakes and unhappy disapproving looks from several nearby beings, though quite a few others seemed to be smiling too. Others simply gave him sympathetic looks of understanding. Truth be told, they weren't looking happy themselves. Far from it. Many of them looked like they had been already waiting for a VERY long time.

Harry grimaced and groaned pitifully. "I don't believe this...I really don't believe it" he said. He felt like crying.

"Yea, I know," said a near by person, grinning, showing his teeth, which made Harry give him a fierce glare, a glare which strongly suggested imminent pain if one more word was said.

Getting the idea the person just nodded then went back to staring at a nearby wall.

Screw Limbo…_Surely this _had_ to be Hell_, Harry thought.

* * *

_**#Meanwhile, back on earth, Privet drive.**_

Dumbledore, in his hurry, apparated right into the middle of the Dursleys' dining room during a 'late night' 12 O'clock Dursley meal. Expecting to appear in their bedroom, he was somewhat surprised to appear instead right onto their dining table with a loud crack like thunder, but hid it well. Spraying the Dursleys and Aunt Marge (who was presently staying at the Dursleys for the weekend) with food, he allowed himself a quick smug look around but quickly hid it.

Aunt Marge, who had taken great pleasure in tormenting Harry the past few days, had been busy eating a chicken wing when it happened. Having never seen Dumbledore or indeed magic before, she screamed in alarm then promptly swallowed down the wrong way in her fright.

Ripper, her dog, aptly named for the fact as he truly lived up to his name (he had bitten Harry quite a few times that evening alone) yelped in his panic and raced, or rather squeezed, his over weight body out of the cat flap of the front door, then ran right onto the near by road. A loud squeal of a tire, followed by a crash and a high pitched yelp later everything was quiet once more. Nobody in the Dursley house dared to speak. Only Aunt Marge's choking, coughing sounds could be heard as she desperately tried to get some desperately needed air.

"Where is Harry?" asked Dumbledore with a menacing growl, completely ignoring Marge's plight, who was by now becoming quite red from her lack of air. It was completely unlike the old headmaster to act this way. At least not to those who thought they knew him well. Little did anybody know that the kind old man had a much darker side.

Standing on the table he looked completely different than the normally benign wise old man most people knew him as (which had partly to do with the fact that he was still grumpy from having been torn from his bed. It wasn't often that he could get an early night and that only made his temper even worse.

Too afraid to speak, completely in shock at what had just happened, the Dursleys stayed quiet. They were frozen in shock, far too afraid to move to help Aunt Marge, who was now sprawling on the ground, clutching her neck with both hands and turning blue in the face from the lack of oxygen.

Dumbledore sighed slightly before he briefly flicked his wand at the woman. Almost immediately a large piece of chicken flew out of her mouth in a high ark and hit Vernon square in the middle of his face, making him emit a loud yelp a second later.

"Now will you speak?" Dumbledore asked, still using a menacing voice, but as before the Dursleys didn't react. The sudden use of magic seemed to have petrified them even more.

Normally Dumbledore might have been amused to see all this but not today, not when Harry was in danger, even feared dead. True, truth be told, he didn't particularly like the boy and as far as he could throw him. In fact, if it wasn't for the prophesy he wouldn't have cared what happened to the boy at all. He only thought of him as a useful pawn. That was why he had allowed the Dursleys to abuse him unchecked all of these last few years, in the hope that when the time came for Harry to attend Hogwarts, he would be only too grateful to trust and obey him later on. That was of course after he, the great Albus Brian Wulfric Percival Dumbledore, future God of the World...and future weekly winner of the teen witch weekly's most wanted bachelor award, rescued him from his abusive relatives.

He wanted his relatives to abuse him. Dumbledore knew quite well that his relatives hated magic, and therefore also him. But it was all for the greater good as he always liked to say. _His greater good, to be precise, though nobody needed to know that last part, of course._

However, Harry dying, before he could complete the only task Dumbledore needed him to complete, before he secretly killed him later on himself (namely the defeat of the dark lord Voldemort) was not acceptable. For now he needed him to live. With this in mind he turned his attention back to the Dursleys.

"ANSWER ME! Where is Harry!" he shouted loudly. Too loudly and too fiercely it seemed, as the Dursleys, all four of them, Marge included - though she wet herself first - promptly fainted.

Massaging his face for a brief second Dumbledore groaned. _This could take a while. Perhaps some Veritaserum would do the trick. Yes…it would. All for the greater good, of course,_ he thought as he pulled out a small flask he always kept with him from his pocket, then pointed his wand to revive them again.

* * *

_**#Meanwhile back in Limbo**_

Harry was not a happy boy. Nor was he a happy ethereal being either for that matter (for that was what he had become now since he had left his physical body behind on earth). The queue he was in was...in short ludicrous...in a depressing sort of way and not showing any predictable end in the near future. In fact, if he thought it was possible, Harry would have sworn it wasn't moving at all. Harry didn't know how long he had been waiting, not that many, or really anybody seemed to care about that around here. Well, they were all dead, like himself, and they did have a lot of time on their hands... or in some cases paws,…or even tentacles, to name only a few, to waste. But after the first few weeks of waiting (Time moves differently than it would on earth) he was almost ready to crack and was showing considerable amounts of strain.

Now, Harry was usually a fairly patient lad, or so he thought. Being locked up in a cupboard all night and sometimes days on end could do that to you, but this was unlike anything he had ever witnessed, or indeed forced to endure before. He simply couldn't comprehend how some of these other beings could handle it so well. But then again, he guessed they did have a lot of time to get used to it. Maybe in time he would too. What a truly depressing thought. Taking another breath to calm his nerves, he settled down to wait once more.

* * *

**#Meanwhile in a near by room**

"Impressive. I really expected a child like him to have cracked by now," a nearby being whispered to another. "They don't usually have so much patience."

"Yeah, I know, he does show great potential, doesn't he," said the other being. "Too bad he is already designated for the 'Reapers', otherwise I might just have recommended him for one of the Mortal Surveillance Teams, M.y.S.T. for short. It may be a tedious job…most of the time, but the perks - positions of power with the ability to be as corrupt as they want to be and to get away with anything they wanted, as long as they don't overdo it - are quite nice I hear," he whispered back.

"Nah! I don't think so, the perks might be nice...most of the time...unless you get shot or worse... but I can't really see him joining them," said a third being. "Some of their jobs can take centuries before something of interest happens..." said a third voice.

"Anyway…that's currently beside the point and a subject for a later discussion, after all he has already been sorted…shall we get him already? Death and the rest of the Gods have been getting a little impatient and they do have other...better, more important things to do than to wait for him to pass the greeting ceremony test," asked the first.

"It may be a bit unorthodox...but...considering the circumstances…sure!" said the second before all three started to advance.

Harry was in the process of contemplating whether to take another nap or to start jumping around the room while imitating a donkey, when suddenly three beings, two male and one female, all dressed in the same official while glowing uniforms he had seen a few people wear, stepped in front of him. They seemed to be in charge of dealing with unruly people who got tired with waiting.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" he asked somewhat timidly.

"Mr. Potter, congratulations... you pass. Please come with us. We have been told to escort you to the Grand Council Chamber ahead of schedule. If you could follow us please we would be much obliged."

As soon as those words were spoken everybody in the room started clapping and cheering before they all suddenly disappeared. Harry was suddenly left all alone with the three glowing men.

Harry could only gape, his mouth wide open. "What the fuck!" he said out loudly, unable to understand what had just happened.

"Yeah...we get that a lot," one of the men said. The others simply chuckled.

Surprised, annoyed, not to mention confused and a little angry... but other that that simply greatly relieved that someone was finally talking to him and that something was at last happening, Harry immediately perked up.

"Sure!"

'Finally,' he thought, finally he would be able to do something else than simply waiting. He didn't really care what had just happened All he cared about was getting out of there...wherever he was.

Quickly, not giving the empty room another glance, afraid they could somehow change their minds if he didn't move fast enough or that he was only dreaming - if that was possible now that he was dead - Harry quickly got up and followed them out of the hall.

As soon as they left the hall one of the three turned to speak to him.

"We are sorry about having to cut your time here short...we're sure you enjoyed yourself," one said in a cheeky amused voice, before the next continued to speak:... "but the Collective Ethereal Council and the Gods do have other things to do than to wait for you to finally crack and complain about the never-ending, not-moving queue."

"Huh!" said Harry, confused. Then his escort began to smile and all suddenly became clear. "Wha…" Harry began to say but stopped. His eyes widened and then he groaned.

"You can't be serious," he said as he groaned. "You're trying to tell me that this was all some sort of test?" he asked, half outraged, half exasperated.

"Hmm…clever boy…that was fast; your parents took much longer," said the third being.

"You knew my parents?" asked Harry, his anger replaced with excitement.

"Yep, everybody goes through here during their journey into the great beyond...or the next great adventure as some like to call it. Some take longer than others, but all crack at some point. Your father cracked before your mother did and actually started a fight...but that's neither here nor there... Fact is everybody goes through this...and little do they know that all they have to do is ask and we will help them. The numbers on the tickets are just for fun," said one of the three.

Harry just shook his head in amazement. Taking another look at the number he had received he stared at it for a second or two, then he began to chuckle. He wasn't sure whether to be angry with them, amused, or to simply be happy that the ordeal was finally over. In the end he decided to simply enjoy his new found freedom.

Giving the number one last look he shook his head and threw it away, watching it disappear as soon as it touched the ground. If he thought about it, he was surprised just how long he had lasted, one month and three days of doing nothing but waiting. 'Amazing what people can do when they must. Amazing what dead people can do, once they have the time,' he corrected himself as he followed the guides.

For the next few minutes Harry followed his three escorts down several halls, upside down several others, then up several hundred stairs. Harry didn't even blink. He was so glad to be doing something other than waiting that he would have gladly climbed the mount Everest, naked at that point. Being dead sure helped as being dead there was no way for him to become exhausted anymore...nor indeed did he feel any cold anymore either.

Finally they stopped at a huge double door made of pure white marble, flawless pearls and perfect diamonds.

"Here we are, the Grand Council Chamber of the Ethereal Supreme Council, though you will find more than just the full council here today. I don't know what you did lad, but you really must have impressed somebody. The Gods themselves are here. You must be real special kid," said the first escort. He looked impressed.

"Huh….really? Why?" asked Harry surprised, horrified and really scared at the attention he was receiving. He couldn't understand why anybody, let alone a God of all beings…let alone a hall full of Gods for that matter, would want to see him. "Why would they…?"

"Ssss…don't worry, everything will be just fine," said the third escort before Harry could finish his question. "All will be explained soon."

"Run along now, time to face the music...or the torture...whatever they have in mind, said the female guide, before she was clipped behind her ear by one of her males colleagues.

"They are waiting for you, Harry, in the council chamber," said the last guide.

"Actually, don't run…just walk, they might smite you if you run," corrected the first.

He too received a clip behind the ear.

Harry simply nodded nervously; he didn't really want to be here but something told him he didn't have a choice in the matter. A second later the huge double doors groaned and opened.

It was time to face the music…whatever that meant.

* * *

**AN: **That was chapter 2...

Chapter 3 coming soon. (I need to read over it and see if everything is still there and as it should be...maybe add a few things as well... to make it worthwhile to read.)

I'll upload it as soon as I can.

(There are 5 finished chapters at present. Once I have them checked and uploaded I will get straight back to writing Paradox.)

Enjoy!


	3. The Council of the Dead

_**Harry the Reaper**_

_**Chapter 3**_

The Council of the Dead

* * *

_**Previously on Harry the Reaper:**_

"Run along now, time to face the music. They are waiting for you, Harry, in the Council chamber," said the second.

"Actually don't run…walk," said the first.

Harry simply nodded nervously, he didn't really want to be here but something told him he didn't have a choice in the matter. A second later the huge double doors groaned and opened.

It was time to face the music…whatever that meant.

_**And now the continuation:**_

* * *

The huge white double doors opened slowly with a loud groan to reveal a simply gigantic oval-shaped, white, ceiling-less, cloud shaped, multi-leveled stadium, crammed to the hilt with numerous beings of different shapes and sizes. Some of these beings were solid, others were made out of the elements. Some were dark, while others were bright...some were even multicolored, while others again were see-through. All of these beings had one thing in common and that was that they looked down upon him from seats high in the clouds. Each being had a cloud to him, her or itself, some of which were at least a few hundred meters high up in the sky. But all had a perfect view of the center of the stadium where a huge podium stood.

Harry was quite literally shocked senseless. There was no other way to describe his sudden state of mind. This was simply too much for his young inexperienced mind to handle. For a boy who had spent most of his life in a cramped cupboard, this was simple too much to comprehend. He had never seen anything like it. At that moment his nerves were practically killing him and if we had still been alive Harry was sure he would have been sick of sudden overwhelming stress.

The only thing he had ever seen which came even close to this was when he had once managed to sneak a look at the Dursleys television set while they were watching the soccer world cup. Only this 'stadium', for that was the closest thing which came to Harry's mind to describe it... This stadium, if one could call it that, was at least ten times larger, if not more. As it was he felt like running. He wanted to be far away... Anywhere, but where he currently stood. For a second he even wished he was back in his cupboard. He was that overwhelmed.

Wanting nothing more than to turn around and run, he was about to do just that when the doors suddenly vanished and were replaced by nothing but thin air, leaving him standing in the center of the stadium at the mercy of the crowd. At least that's what it seemed like to Harry.

Gulping, his knees shaking from nervousness, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Frantically he tried to calm his mind. Just like any other day when he needed to suppress his emotions (like when dealing with the Dursleys) he did his best to do the few basic calming exercises he knew.

He had found out a long time ago (for him) that they seemed to help him whenever he was dealing with the relatives. Surely they would help him here, right now, as well.

It seemed they did. Slowly, his mind relaxed...and soon it was back to a manageable level. The multiple beings seemed to sense his unease and patiently waited to let him clear his head and to calm down. Soon Harry reopened his eyes and turned around at hearing a soft sound behind him, only to gasp once more.

Before him, on another raised dais, even larger than all the others, he suddenly noticed a few ethereal beings who were even grander than the others he had seen so far.

While the others were indeed a sight to behold, these beings brought the pure bright lights and different colours to even greater heights of grandness.

There, sitting in front of him and studying him with critical eyes, radiating pure and simple majestic godliness, were several beings of such overwhelming power, that it made him feel light-headed and downright nauseous.

Even then, none of them were anything compared to two other beings sitting at the complete center of the front row, on two large thrones, one made out of pure perfect crystal, the other made out of bones. One of the two was so bright that Harry had to shield his eyes from it. It was like the purest white light he had ever seen: it seemed to be glowing brighter than the sun, if that were possible.

The other, a complete opposite of the first, was surrounded in a pitch black cloud of darkness, immature thunder bolts forming inside it, but were kept from escaping by sheer will alone, leaving only its head visible. From the top of the beings head sprouted two red horns. It was these horns which finally brought Harry out of his stunned state and back into reality. Seeing them, Harry paled even further than his dead body usually allowed. Quite a feat considering it was already pure white to begin with. He knew who that figure was, how could he not. So the other must be…. Had he not been dead, he would have fainted again.

Seeing that Harry was finally present, a being on a third and final raised dais, which seemed to be primarily for holding speeches, stepped forward and banged an enormous staff three times on the ground. Each time the staff hit the ground it released three bolts of lightening which flew vertically into the sky and emitted three very loud, ear deafening - or they would have been had he still been alive - claps of thunder, which rocked the stadium and quieted the crowds to a whispered hush. That done he bowed to the Obvious Gods, then, his voice magically distributed to all the platforms in the entire stadium, he started to speak.

"Hear ye, hear ye, in compliance to the powers invested in me by the Gods and the Grand Council, I herewith announce a new sitting of the Ethereal Supreme Council in process. Today's main topic: the destiny of the recently deceased prophecy child known as Harry James Potter. Lesser topics and votes concerning ghost rights and spirit amusement parks, as well as other minor topics, will follow the main …."

For the next few minutes Harry's scared mind was frantically trying to comprehend what was being said. Visions of strange and wondrous things (of the not so good kind) of what could happen to him kept interfering with his thoughts. The next thing Harry knew, the Gods seemed to be deliberating about what to do with him.

A God which Harry understood was called Death (who actually was not just called it, but who actually was Death) was currently in the process of explaining why 'he' - Harry, was supposed to be dead. Had Harry not been so scared he would have found it interesting, even amusing. However at that moment he was anything but amused.

"That's all fine and good, I can see why you may be against the motion, really I do, but I must insist, dead is dead, there can be no way around it, it is the order of things…and it really was his time. I don't see why I should make an exception for him when others of far greater importance to the mortal world have not been granted the same request….NO!…I, Death the remover, will not, I repeat… I can not with good conscience allow the reinsertion of the once mortal named Harry James Potter into his prior, now cold and stiff remains." With those words, Death, who had been standing, nodded to the council speaker and sat back down in his seat behind him.

Seeing that Death had finished another God stood up.

"The council recognizes Fate, the decider of destinies," said the being known as the chair of wisdom, who had opened the council sitting earlier.

"Supreme God Death…I, Supreme God Fate, would like to remind your holiness that it is not up to you, Death, to decide the destinies of mortals. Now, I recognize that it is your right…your holy right to be exact, to decide the ends of all things mortal but in this I do have a say. As your godliness may know, I, Fate, have created a prophecy as is my godly right, prophesying the imminent vanquish of the Dark One named Riddle, by the hands and magical power of the one named Harry James Potter. As such, said deceased mortal gains my protection. As such he can not be allowed to die. By removing him from his mortality before his appointed time named by Prophecy, you have damned the world of Mortals to darkness and despair. This I feel by my godly right can not be accepted and as such I dem… I request a different solution or at the least a compromise to our common problem."

"Permission to speak privately with her Godliness," Death asked from his seat, looking up at the 'chair', otherwise known as the council speaker.

"The council recognizes and agrees with your request, Death. Death, the remover of all things, you may stand and join her in the private chamber. The council shall now take a short recess..."

With a flash Death and Fate (seats and all) disappeared and reappeared in a remote chamber on the far end of the stadium.

"Ok, now that we are relatively safe from prying ears, let's cut the formal crap, shall we?" said Death to Fate, who promptly scowled.

"Agreed," said Fate, all friendliness from her voice removed as her voice became icy cold and the both started to freeze.

"As I have said, I understand your dilemma, Fate, really I do, but I can not simply reinsert his body, it simply is not possible."

"Why not? You are the Lord over death, aren't you… Death?" asked Fate with a smirk.

"Yes, I am, but even so, even though that is the case, even with all of my powers I can't just simply overturn my own rules, what would that look like… besides, her holiness, Order, wouldn't allow it anyway, and you know as well as I do how grumpy she gets if things aren't kept strictly by the book. I'd like to avoid that if at all possible, thank you very much. You know, if things get rough she can enforce my… I mean...our… compliance in that matter…you know how much she hates chaos, just yesterday I heard her complain about another mess Chaos had caused," said Death, shivering slightly at the mere memory of the occasion.

Fate seemed to visibly deflate in front of his eyes and started to shiver as she too thought about Order and what she did when she got angry. It was not pretty to say the least.

"Yes, Death, I know, but still, even so…something tells me she also won't be happy about a prophecy which can't be fulfilled …it does sort of, you know... disrupt the order of things, doesn't it."

"I know," said Death with a slight smile, expecting that answer. "That's why I have implemented a back up plan for such situations."

"Oh," said Fate, now interested and no longer angry with Death.

"Yes, you see, if someone dies, someone who would be better off 'not' dead, as the case may be, then I simply convert him or her into one of mine," said Death.

Fate frowned. "I don't think I fully understand what you are...are you suggesting…Oh…I see…"

"Yes, that's right. Instead of reinserting him back into his body as a full blown mortal, which I can tell you here and now with utmost sincerely, Order would no doubt not be impressed with... at all, I will instead convert him and make him into one of my Death Reapers…"

"...thus order is remade and she will have no reason to be grumpy about anything," finished Fate, a smile appearing on her face, satisfied with Deaths plan.

"Correct ...Well, nearly anything...she can still complain about us taking a different path than what would normally be the usual, but...well...anyway...let's forget about that, shall we? No harm done in the long run. Now! Let's tell them the good news, shall we?" asked Death. Fate simply nodded and both disappeared once more with a flash.

* * *

Meanwhile, while Death and Fate were busy discussing his future, Harry was patiently waiting on his own dais, waiting nervously for the two Gods to return. Something, a strange feeling in his gut, told him that he wasn't going to like whatever the two beings of immense power were coming up with. Harry knew it would decide his destiny for the next unknown amount of years to come…and that notion alone made him feel very sick inside.

Looking at his judges, for that's what he viewed them as (they were deciding his future, after all) he wondered just what and how long his newest sentence would be. For a few seconds Harry wondered just what a normal life would have been like. He would never know that now, that much was certain. Life?...What life? He had never really had a life to begin with in the first place. Being locked up in a cupboard for most of the day and all of the night was not what anyone would call a life. At least no once sane and normal would. He was sure of that. A nightmare perhaps, but definitely not a life. Well...not a proper and good one anyway.

Looking up at the 'private' dais, Harry noticed that the Gods Fate and Death, as he had come to know them, seemed to have come to an agreement. Indeed, just seconds later, Death and Fate reappeared in their former dais's and Death looked up and motioned towards the chair of the council that he wished to continue. Three claps of thunder from the staff later and the whole stadium was quiet once more.

"Have your godlinesses come to an agreement?" asked the speaker otherwise known as the chair.

"Yes, we have," said Death.

"Then announce your will and let it be done," said the speaker.

Death started to speak: "Due to the fact that the recently deceased has died at his rightfully appointed time as was written in the fabled book of the recently deceased, it shall not be possible to return him to his one time mortal body... At least not as the free mortal he once was. It would disrupt the order of things. As such, I can not and will not allow it to happen, now or for ever more."

Immediately the whole stadium, the whole crowd started to argue among themselves. Harry simply bowed his head._ Well, looks like that's that, no return ticket for me. I'm dead and dead I'll stay, he thought to himself._

Suddenly everybody quieted down again. Surprised, Harry watched as many beings, even some Gods, started to cower.

"Not good enough!" said a grumpy voice from the dais of the Gods.

"The council recognizes her godliness, the fearsome Goddess of Order." said the speaker of the council, timidly.

Death cringed slightly. Order was one of the only Gods everybody knew he feared (and that had nothing to do with the fact that she was his wife …well maybe a little…ok, maybe a lot...OK! OK!... definitely A LOT). Not that he would ever admit to it of course.

Order did not sound happy and Death was fairly sure he knew why. "Surely you don't seriously expect me to accept this outcome, do you? Death! You know how much I hate disorder …I. Won't. Have. It!" she said, stopping at and stressing every word. "Think of something else!" she ordered in a clear no debate, no nonsense commanding voice. Many beings in the hall gulped. Harry realized that her command held no room for discussion of any kind. She simply wouldn't listen to it. Harry shivered. This Goddess made his relatives look completely harmless. Here was a woman who knew what she wanted and nobody would be able to sway her from it.

"Er…yes…er… of course, dear...er.. honey...er.. I was just about to come to that point. Thank you for raising that issue…er…" Suddenly Order began to growl and Death's eyes grew wide. "…I have decided to make him into a Grim Reaper, he continued quickly….er…if that is ok…with… you...OK..?" He asked, meekly. "…Please!" he added, almost begging.

"Hmm…I guess… very well, you may proceed," Order said, sounding slightly appeased though she still had an angry annoyed look on her face which promised future trouble. Death gave a sigh of relief and immediately regretted it. "This discussion is not over yet, Death…I'll see you… tonight," Order said before settling herself back down into her seat. Death cringed again then looked completely subdued.

Seeing that the situation seemed to be under control again, at least for now, the rest of the stadium started to relax. Nearly all gave Death looks of sympathy, others merely whistled, while others again sighed in relief. Seeing that Death wasn't feeling up to continue, Fate rose to speak:

"The council recognizes the Goddess Fate," said the speaker of the council said, quietly, nervously.

"As Death was saying, he has decided to make the former mortal named Harry James Potter into a member of his legion of the undead."

"Undead? What do you mean undead?" asked Harry, speaking up for the first time. His mind was beginning to sprout images of zombies walking around towns, scaring people and changing them into other zombies. Not a pleasant thought.

"Please be quiet and wait for your turn; if you wish to speak rise and wait to be recognized… Gods have priority," said the Speaker of the council, effectively cutting Harry off and effectively making Harry shrink back in fear. Instead another God rose to speak. "The council recognizes the Goddess of Life."

"I apologize in advance if it has already been mentioned before, but I don't fully understand a certain point. Why, may I ask, it is so important to send this particular deceased back to Earth? Did I miss something? I know there is a prophecy but couldn't it simply be transferred? I would be happy to create him another body if it will help...That is if it really is...well.. vital, that he returns himself. Why is this boy is so important?" asked Life.

Fate sighed. This was her fault. Signalling that she wanted to speak she waited until she was announced, then began to speak once more: "The deceased was physically marked at an early age as the only one able to defeat a certain mortal Dark Lord. That and because of the way I worded the prophecy, I'm afraid it is non transferable. Only Harry can defeat…or as I have prophesied, 'vanquish' the Dark Lord. That is why he must be sent back, as he and only he can do the deed."

"I see," said Life..."What about the mortal named Nevile...doesn't he fit the prophesy as well? she asked?

"Unfortunately no...first of all he was not marked by the Dark Lord... secondly, he was not given the necessary powers needed to complete the task, powers which are vital to vanquish said Dark Lord. Thirdly...we all know that once chosen by prophesy the chosen one can not be transferred... that would cause a moment of disorder...a situation which we should of course avoid if at all possible..." Fate explained.

"Damn right!" Order said loudly, smugly.

"So no... the task can not be given to the mortal named Neville." Fate said, then sat back down, signalling that she was finished.

Harry choose that moment to stand. Seeing that the gods seemed to be otherwise busy at that moment the speaker of the council also chose that moment to recognize him.

"The council recognizes the newly deceased named Harry James Potter. You may speak."

"First question: What do you mean by undead?"

"Undead means: not living, yet still capable of movement. In your case, you will be known as a Grim Reaper, a messenger of Death. Officially, the undead usually do not have a heart beat or any functioning organs of any kind for that matter; you, however, are a special case. Officially you will be classified as dead, but if a person, say a doctor or Healer were to examine you, they would find a fully functioning body: heart beat, functioning lungs, and so on, included. Now, do not mistake yourself with an Inferius..or a zombie as they are also known, they are inferior mindless drones. You, on the other hand, will have a fully functioning intelligent mind...and more importantly; free will. Also remember that you will have certain skills such as improved speed, advanced healing, improved sight, which includes perfect night vision and other advantages which will be explained to you at a later stage in greater detail. The fact that you can't die again is only a bonus. I believe you will find them quite useful in your future endeavors. Does that satisfy your question?" asked Death who had chosen that moment to speak.

"It does, thank you," said Harry already accepting his future for what it was going to be. It might even be fun, he thought. "What is this prophecy…I have never heard of one before," he asked next.

"The prophecy we speak of is one I made before your birth. It concerns yourself and an evil wizard, known to his followers as Voldemort. When you were one, he came to your house after your parents were betrayed by a friend. He systematically murdered your parents and then tried to murder you. Your mother died trying to protect you after your father fell, but she too died. However, what Voldemort did not realize was that Lily, your mother, sacrificed herself to give you the ultimate protection. Blood protection with a bit of divine power, due to the prophesy, added to make it infallible. Which is the reason why it was able to defeat the otherwise unbreakable mortal killing curse. The protection I placed on you was so strong that the curse Voldemort cast on you backfired and hit him instead, leaving you with that scar of your fore head. The same scar which is causing all of our problems today," said Fate.

"What? My aunt and uncle told me it was because of a car accident," said Harry, surprised, tenderly touching his scar at the same time.

"HA! Your relatives are hardly trustworthy people…Harry, if I may say so…and may the Gods forgive my language… I wouldn't trust them with a piece of s…"

"That shall be enough, Fate," said one of the Gods from the dais of the Gods. It was the bright God who was brighter than the rest. The one who sat beside the dark, evil looking one.

"Of course…forgive me, your holiness," said Fate, bowing deeply.

"Any other questions before we continue," asked the speaker turning back to Harry.

"Yes, one more… obviously my aunt and uncle are not good people..."Harry started to speak.

"Obviously," multiple beings in the stadium said as one.

"...Er...Yes..well...would it be possible to arrange other guardians for me once I return back to earth or at least change their attitude towards me?" Harry continued to speak.

"Hmm, good question…will anybody answer this?" the speaker asked, aiming the question towards the floor. Fate rose again to answer.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but unfortunately our kind is not allowed to directly interfere with peoples' 'free will'...at least those still alive. It's the only limitation which we Gods have. Once in a while we may make a disciple out of a mortal, though that is very rare, even then they have the last word whether they wish to help or not… You, on the other hand, are dead, so that particular rule does not apply to you anymore. I'm afraid it will not be possible to change their behavior. Rest assured that Hell has a very special reserved place for them though, if it makes you feel any better." "As do a few others," said Death who seemed to have recovered from his ordeal with Order.

"Indeed!" said a sudden cold voice, which caused everybody to stop speaking and turn to look at the dark, evil looking one who sat beside the very bright one.

"I have a very special place, inside a very special volcano, in the deepest level of hell reserved for your relatives, Harry. They will get their just reward... VERY soon!" he said with a chuckle, before falling silent once more.

Many beings in the hall, Harry included shivered and some even pitied the souls of Harry's relatives...

Harry simply nodded. "What about placing me in another home? Surely I do not have to be with them to fulfill the prophecy?" asked Harry desperately.

Fate shook her head. "I'm afraid certain people, like a Mr. Dumbledore, who you will meet soon, would never allow that to happen. I'm afraid he is rather…stubborn... and would have you back there before you could even say 'help'. He is also the reason why all of the attempts by the police and your teachers have failed in the past. The teachers didn't ignore you...they simply didn't see anything happen. I'm afraid Dumbledore is a very influential and powerful mortal."

"But why would he do that?" asked Harry.

Fate sighed somewhat. "I'm sure you have heard the expression Fate's a bitch…right?…yes…well, it's true to a certain aspect."

Harry raised his eyebrows slightly, Did Fate just call herself a bitch?

" Harry, you have to understand some people are just plain evil, that's just the way it is. Bad must exist to equalize the good...if not there would be disorder," Fate started to say but was interrupted.

"And I will not allow disorder... Harry!" said Order, growling slightly.

"Yes well...what she said..."Fate continued to speak..."..er..em...You can try to change people, or you can try to fight them, the bad part, however, is that most of the time the bad people will win, until a good person defeats them to create a brief moment of peace until history repeats itself. Its a never ending story. All you can do is make the best of a situation, even if it doesn't seem like much. I'm sorry but that's all I can say to you about that at this time," Fate said with a apologetic smile.

Harry was desperate. At that moment he was willing to do anything as long as he got away from his relatives.

Suddenly another God rose to speak.

"The council recognizes his godliness, the God of Chaos," said the speaker of the council, nodding towards the chaotic God of disorder and ignoring the rather loud growl which came from Order.

"Maybe I can help you!" he announced, stroking his long...very very long beard thoughtfully. His beard was hanging out of his dais where it proceeded to descend for several meters. It was a truly disorganized sight.

Hearing this, Harry perked up, a little hope in his eyes.

"It's true we can not interfere directly, Unfortunately...however, due to my position I may be able to… how do you say, throw certain people a stick between the spokes? Now! I won't promise anything Harry, but I will see what I can do. At the very least expect a few people to get into some serious trouble once you're back…who knows, it might be advantageous for you. At the very least you'll have a laugh."

Harry nodded, wondering what the God meant. He was sure he would find out soon enough.

Somewhat dejected that he would have to go back to his all so 'loving' family but looking forward to what Chaos had planned, Harry finally gave up and sat back down.

"Don't cause too much disorder Chaos..." Order commanded. Chaos however didn't seem to care.

"I'm warning you Chaos," Order said angrily, threateningly.

"Did you say something?" Chaos asked.

"Why you!...good for nothing...ass-h," said Order.

"ENOUGH!" came the voice of the very bright one. It was an angry roar. Almost instantly both Order and Chaos uttered a quick "Sorry!" then shut up, sat back down and looked down meekly.

For the next few seconds the whole hall was deathly quiet. Nobody dared to say a word.

"OK," said the 'chair speaker' of the council once he was sure a certain supreme God wasn't about to say anything else and once it became clear that nobody else seemed to have anything to say either.

"It seems to me that all current questions have been answered to everybody's satisfaction. I here with ask the floor if there are any other outstanding questions on the Potter case?"

Nobody answered.

"If anybody is not happy with the current solution please rise now, otherwise for ever more hold your peace!" he said, looking around again.

Nobody moved.

Harry decided against asking another question at this time. He was sure that he would have more time to do that at a later stage anyway. He had already accepted his future fate and, truth be told, was actually looking forward to it.

The speaker looked once more towards Death .

"Death, if you're willing to proceed with your current plan, please do so now."

Death nodded. "Very well… I now ask everybody to stand." Everybody, except two, rose.

"I am ready to begin," said Death, giving the speaker, then the dark and very bright one, one last look.

"Then show us your will and let it be done," said the speaker, signalling Death to proceed. The dark and very bright one nodded.

"So it has been decided, so it shall be done," chorused the whole stadium.

Death rose and flashed to the podium in the center of the stadium. After a few seconds he began to speak once more.

"Let it be known that after careful deliberation, we, the Gods and Supreme Ethereal Council, have decided and agreed to let the recently deceased, known as Harry James Potter, son of James and Lillian Potter nee Evans return to earth under certain strict stipulations." Having said that, Death turned to face Harry.

"By the powers of Death bestowed upon me by the creator... as the God of Death, I, Death, the remover of all, henceforth decree: the recently deceased former mortal is no more and shall herewith and henceforth forfeit this mortality and join the ranks of the undead as a Grim Reaper."

The moment those words left Death's mouth, The dark and very bright ones rose up from their thrones and held up their hands. (they had not stood up with the rest) Suddenly Death and Harry began to float into the air. Harry could only watch open mouthed as Death began to chant and was soon followed by the bright and dark ones...

A flash of what looked like a bolt of lightening erupted from the bright ones hands and struck Death. Death's hands suddenly glowed even brighter.

"Heaven allows Harry James Potter to join the forces of the undead but shall not close its gates to him because of it, at the end of his mortal time. You may return to the mortal realm", So mote it be said the very bright one.

Then the Dark one also shot a dark coloured bolt of lightening into Death. Death suddenly began to glow a grey colour.'

"Hell gives permission for Harry James Potter to join the forces of the undead. Also, he shall not be enslaved in hell because of it at the end of his time. You may return to the mortal realm. So mote it be" the dark one announced.

"Death agrees and gifts Harry James Potter with the gift and curse of ever lasting life...until his job be done...A reaper you shall be. You may return to the mortal realm, Rise! Harry James of Potter...Rise! So mote it be.

Then it happened:

Harry never even had a chance to blink before he was stuck down by a massive bolt of grey lightening from Deaths hands. The last thing Harry heard before his world turned dark once more was a silent chorusing of the crowds:

"So it was decreed, so it was done.

"So it is decreed, Deaths will be done.

"By the will of the Gods', So it was decreed."

" By the will of the two...Deaths will be done."

* * *

**AN:** And cut...

Next chapter in two days. (I need that much time to look over it and see if everything is is acceptable condition.


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